Mike let his arms fall in defeat and hustled over to me. “The only way you’re going to improve is if you start walking.”
I shrugged. “Can I have my crutches now?”
“You’re not even going to try?”
I shook my head again.
“I can’t say I’m not disappointed.”
“Until you get shot, I don’t really care what you have to say.”
Mike’s head snapped back, and instantly I felt bad for being such an asshole. But I was frustrated and annoyed, and even though I knew I shouldn’t be taking it out on him, I couldn’t help myself.
Mike retrieved my crutches and brought them back. “You need to give yourself a little more credit. You can do this.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, taking my crutches out of his hands.
I tucked them under my arms just as Liz walked in. After today Kat would bring me to and from PT, but Liz had already rearranged her schedule for this appointment so I didn’t argue.
“How’d it go?” she asked with a huge smile on her face.
“It didn’t.” I tried to storm out angrily but the damn crutches kept getting in my way, so I did my best attempt and continued right out the door.
***
From far away, the eyes of a killer weren’t much different from anyone else’s. You’d never be able to tell. But up close, staring you down, holding your life in their hands, you can see the endless darkness. The abyss of evil. For one brief moment, you get a glimpse of the person they were before they turned.
I had focused on that. Pleading with a blank stare, devoid of a soul, hoping to reach some inkling of his humanity. Hopeful he would remember the time I helped pick his books up off the floor. Hanging on to that thread of hope that he’d see my act of kindness as restitution.
“You going to eat that? Or just be mesmerized by my awesome baking skills?”
I darted my eyes away from the browned butter-pecan cookie and tossed it in my mouth. Liz leaned her elbows on the counter and tried to burn a hole through my face with her intense gaze. She was waiting for a reaction. Anything to praise her as the Cookie Master she believed she was. And she was. But there was no fun in admitting it. It was much more entertaining to watch her sweat it out.
I chewed slowly, dragging out every single movement of my mouth.
“So . . .” Liz threw her hands up in the air. “Are they amazing or what?”
Taking too much pleasure in her impatience, I chewed some more, cocking an eyebrow for my let-me-think-about-this look.
The front door opened and shut and I continued to chew. Liz’s face lit up, and I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Zach and not some psychopath robbing a house in daylight.
“Hey you,” Zach said, stepping around the counter to give my sister a kiss. Most brothers would give the “I’ll kill you” glare, but Zach was cool. Which was why he wasn’t just my sister’s boyfriend, but one of my closest friends. “Hey, Josh.”
I put my fist out for a pound and continued to chew.
Liz pouted her lip out and crossed her arms over her chest. “Zach, Josh won’t tell me how my cookies are.”
“They smell delicious.” Zach picked one up and popped it in his mouth. “Yup, delicious just like you.” He leaned in, snaking his hand around her waist, lips hovering too damn close to her neck—that’s where I drew the line. Friend or not, I didn’t need to see that.
I swallowed. “They’re awesome!” I yelled, and Zach’s hand dropped from Liz’s waist.
“Yes!” Liz jumped up, throwing her hand in the air.
Zach smirked. “He was pushing your buttons. You just had to push back.”
He knew me too well. But that was okay, because I knew all about him too, and he was good for my sister. Hell, if it weren’t for him, Liz probably would still be sitting on her damn couch staring at the “Breaking News” flashing across her TV.
With my parents out of the country on a cruise when I was shot, Liz was all I had, but according to Zach, she was basically catatonic when he arrived.
Plus he knocked out that loser ex of hers. Lucky, because if he hadn’t I would have. I wouldn’t have been satisfied with one punch either. I owed Zach a lot. More than he would ever know.
“You ready?” Zach asked Liz.
“Yup. Let me just grab my bag.” She disappeared into the living room.
“How you feeling?” Zach asked with a nod, sliding onto the stool across from me.
“For being shot, pretty damn good.”
“That’s good to hear.” Zach ran a hand through his dark hair and then shrugged. “Liz is still worried about you.”
“It’s what she does.”
He nodded, letting out an amused breath. “If you need anything, just ask. Even if you just want to talk.”
Like I said, good guy. Exactly why I’d never tell him anything either. The haunting was all mine. I wouldn’t pass those horrible images on to anyone else.
“Ready?” Liz bounced back into the room with what looked like an oversized black trash bag draped over her arm.
Zach stood and gave me one last look. A silent message telling me to take him up on his offer. Any time. No expiration date.
“Thanks,” I said as he passed me and wrapped his arm around Liz’s shoulder.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out. Liz turned back. “You okay? Do you want us to stay a little longer? We can.” Did I have to beat her over the head to get her to stop asking?
Three new voicemails. I put the phone on speaker.
“You have three new messages. First new message. Hi Josh, it’s Erica. I was wondering when you’d be back on campus. I had a really good time with you and was hoping we could do it again.
“Next new message. Hey lover. I miss your sexy face. Call me.” That sounded like Lily or was it Jessica?
“Third new message.” I winked at Liz and smiled as Sara went into detail about all the things she wanted to do to me.
“Told you. I’m fine.”
“You’re a pig.”
“A sexy pig,” I said.
“I get it. You’re fine. We’re leaving.” Liz slid her hand into Zach’s. “Oh!” Liz said then stopped and glanced back to me. “I made an extra batch of cookies for Kat. Make sure she takes them.”
Kat. My sister was already on a nickname basis with my . . . What the hell was she?
***
“Mmm.”
Kat savored the bite she took, the sensual noise she made reminding me of all our nights together. All I had to do was kiss right below her ear and the noise spilled out of her. My eyes landed on the spot, all creamy white skin, begging to be touched.
“Your sister is a cookie goddess.”
“Don’t encourage her.”
“Jealous?” She plopped the rest of the cookie in her perfect mouth, and I couldn’t help the smile that tugged when she licked her bottom lip.
“What?” she asked, wiping at her lip as if she had an entire chicken wing hanging from it.
“Nothing.” I grabbed her hand, pulling it away from her face. Blue eyes widened, and I smiled again. “It’s just every time you eat something you love, you lick your bottom lip.” I reached out, dragging a finger along it. “As if you don’t want to leave a single crumb behind.”
Her breath hitched. “I do?” she whispered, even though I don’t think she meant to.
“You always did it during our French fry, chicken finger lunches. Especially when we splurged on dessert.”
Her cheeks flushed, creeping down her neck. “I never realized I did that.” She curled her lip, sucking it into her mouth.
“Don’t go and get all self-conscious on me now. It’s adorable.” She was adorable. Hair pulled back in a rubber band thing, nothing blocking her face except for a single strand that fell free from the rest. Normally I’d find her Hello Kitty scrubs ridiculous, but for some reason I couldn’t keep from smiling every time those stupid cartoons caught my attention.
&
nbsp; “I . . . uh . . . did you want to try walking?”
I ignored her sudden change in topic. When it came to Kat, it was baby steps. Except when I lost my patience and stormed out of the restaurant on her. Though that worked out pretty damn well, and I considered myself lucky.
Walking was the last thing I felt like trying though. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” she asked then tilted her head to look into my eyes. “Your sister said your physical therapist isn’t pleased with your progress.”
“My sister has a big mouth.”
“She’s worried about you.”
“So I’ve been told.” If my sister would just get off my back, stop hovering like I was some kind of incompetent fool and let me go at my own pace, I’d get there. So what if it was taking me longer than my physical therapist thought it would? He wasn’t the one who got shot.
Kat touched my arm and my gaze darted to her hand. “You need to stop being so reliant on your crutches.”
“You need to stop jumping topics.”
“Excuse me?” Her hand fell from my arm, and though I wanted to place it back there and pull her into my lap, I had turned the table on her, and I wasn’t about to let it go.
“As soon as the conversation heads towards something you don’t want to talk about, you change the subject.”
Her lip curled up. “Was I supposed to fawn all over you because you called my lip-licking adorable? Sorry to disappoint.”
No one ever called me on my shit. Most people did fawn over me. Not Kat. Never. While she was quiet and shy with everyone else, she blew me off. Rolled her eyes at my undeniable charm. Acted like me talking to her was the most excruciating thing she’d ever had to endure. I was hooked after the first eye roll.
“For starters,” I said and gave her the look. The one that would make most girls melt, but only put gas in her bitch tank.
“Back to being a grade-A douchebag I see.”
I winked at her and did the douchebag head nod. “What can I say? Chicks dig it.”
Her forehead crinkled. “Chicks? Can you be anymore degrading?”
Before I could answer, her hand shot up. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.”
I stood up, leaned on my crutches and moved towards her. “Why not?” I asked, as I continued to close the gap.
Her tank drained, sputtering to empty. While all her blood rushed to her cheeks, mine rushed somewhere else. I loved that I still made her nervous.
“I . . . uh . . . wh . . . huh?”
But what I really loved was I could still get her all flustered with a simple touch. I dragged my finger down to the spot below her ear. The two years between us evaporated the closer I got. Just like the first time I pulled this move, she sucked in a breath then let it out slowly, eyes closing.
I moved until my mouth was next to her ear. “What was that?”
God, I wanted to kiss her. Lift her up on the counter and do all the things my memory still reminded me of. But I wanted her to kiss me first. To show me she needed me just as badly as I needed her.
Resisting the urge and hanging onto every ounce of self-control, I pulled away. Her eyes were still closed, but when she sensed I was no longer near, they popped open.
I waited. Hoping. The line she’d drawn was back, and if we were ever going to move on, she needed to come to me.
Her hand reached out, and my heart skidded to a stop, but instead of grabbing me, she grabbed my crutch and yanked it away.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded, trying to keep the growl out of my tone.
She put my crutch behind her back. “It’s time to stop making excuses. Walk.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Sure it is,” she said, way too cheery for me.
Tension pulled tight across my forehead. I pushed my fingers into my skin in an attempt to subdue it.
“Let’s go,” she said with a playful smile. But there was nothing playful about this.
Didn’t she get it? It wasn’t that easy. I couldn’t just walk. Muscle was torn. Flesh destroyed. Luckily the bullet missed my femur. But still. It would take more than stealing my crutch.
I held my hand out to her. “Give it back.”
“Come and get it.”
I knew she was trying to help me, even had a playful tone in her voice, but I couldn’t diffuse the anger boiling within. My leg was heavy, my good one feeling weak.
“This isn’t funny. I’m not playing this game.” I put my hand out again. “Give. It. Back. Now!” I yelled. Kat jumped back, a look of fear on her face, and I knew I’d gone too far. It was as if I had no control.
Her big eyes widened even more, but other than that, she kept her composure. But I didn’t need tears to know I’d hurt her.
“I’m sorry,” I said, but the damage was done. She wouldn’t even make eye contact with me. Once the crutch was in my hand, she darted out of the kitchen.
I hobbled after her, using the crutches to propel me forward. If I could just get rid of them I would. But I couldn’t. The truth was, I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to walk normally again.
I was a cripple. I’d never play baseball or go for my morning jog. I’d be cursed with a limp for the rest of my life. Sometimes I wished the bullet had been fatal. Anything would be better than the pain. The torture of the unrelenting visions.
What was I thinking, trying to pull Kat into my misery? She had enough of her own to deal with. Just because I could forget when I was with her didn’t mean she deserved to be with me. The truth was . . . she deserved better. Always had.
She deserved a guy who would show her off. Hold her hand in town. Tell people she was his.
So instead of continuing to chase after her, I turned to the couch and sat. And I let her go.
The door slammed. The room spun. Colors blended. Blues became black. Browns became red, and I was spiraling. My heart raced, threatening to rip a hole through my chest. Sweat pooled in my hands and along my forehead. I gripped the couch, hoping if I was dying that it would just happen already.
Just get it over with. No long, dragged-out show. As long as it wasn’t my sister who found me. But as the colors bled to black, I realized I didn’t want to die.
Liz told me when she heard about the shooting that she prayed, even though she never did before. Because she needed something to hold onto. Mind racing, I forced myself to focus on how badly I wanted to live, praying for the first time in my life.
I didn’t have time to pray in the hallways that day. It all happened too fast. Maybe if I had, maybe if I’d found a single second to send up a silent prayer, things would’ve been different.
I could’ve saved her. When Liz told me about the crying woman in the waiting room, all the air in my lungs sucked out. Without another word I knew it was Nia’s mother. She would never see her daughter again. And it was my fault.
There was no air left in my lungs and with each breath I sucked in, my body shook. The idea of praying was gone. I didn’t deserve to live. I floated out of my body, hovering somewhere just outside of it. But I could still feel my heart thrashing against my chest.
“Look, I’m sorry,” I heard and then the slam of the door.
A shot grazed the shoulder of a guy in my class. He was flung back, tumbling to the ground. Blood pooled around him. I could feel the bile trying to rise in my throat. I pushed it down—I needed to survive.
Nia hid with me in the doorway, but the killer saw us. I pushed ahead of her, hoping to save her. Be the one the killer saw first. But . . . But . . .
“Josh!” My name broke through the fog in my head. Soft hands held my face. “Josh, snap out of it!” The fear in Kat’s voice brought me back.
I gasped for air, filling my lungs.
“Breathe. Just breathe. I’m right here.”
I took slow, calming breaths, letting them pass through every inch of me, allowing Kat’s cotton candy scent to consume me. My grip on the cushion loosened.
Her thumbs
made slow strokes across my cheeks. “That’s right. Come back to me.”
I pressed my hands to hers, which were still resting on my face, interlocking our fingers. I looked up into her familiar blue eyes. A hint of fear still lingered in her gaze. I hated that I did that to her.
“It was a panic attack,” she said. “I get them too.”
Overrun with emotion, only wanting to relish the fact that I wasn’t dead, I pulled her into my arms. She linked her hands around my neck, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more. Needed her warmth pressed against me. I leaned forward into her embrace and swept her off her feet, positioning her on my good leg. Her legs fell in between mine, arms tightening around my neck.
“You scared me,” she whispered, hot against my ear.
“I scared me too. I’m sorry.”
She pulled back, running a hand through my hair. “Don’t be. But maybe it’s time you see someone. Just to talk. You need to talk.”
Talking scared me more. But her cold hands on my neck, the curves of her body pressed against me, her scent, Kat . . . that didn’t scare me at all.
“The only thing I need is you.”
As selfish as it was to hold on to her, I couldn’t let her go. In that moment I truly believed my words. But my problems were bigger than us. I just didn’t know it yet.
I was blissfully unaware that yes, I made it out alive—but a part of me died in that hallway. If I didn’t find a way to infuse life back into it, the shooter would win and I . . . I would be lost to the black cloud of fear and regret.
Chapter 7
I woke up to four more messages on my phone and another text from Eli. Two messages were clients, one was Coach, and the other one was from some girl named Rebecca who I supposedly met at a party and never called, even though I promised to. I had no idea who she was.
I pulled up the first text.
Eli: A simple fucking “I’m still alive” would be nice.
Guilt seeped through me, but I ignored it, along with the text. I rolled my head towards the alarm clock on my nightstand. Nine a.m. and still no Kat. Weird. I was getting used to waking up to the sounds of her puttering around in the kitchen.
Maybe she was here, just not in the kitchen. I stretched, and cringed when pain shot through my thigh. The mornings were the worst. Everything was stiff. It wasn’t like a stiffness you get after overdoing it at the gym either. There was no satisfaction in it.
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